


Lost Soul

by gently_mad



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gently_mad/pseuds/gently_mad
Summary: Lured by a cryptic telegram and trying to find his way out of the madhouse that used to be his old animation studio, Henry is fast running out of time and perhaps sanity as well. Who's going to help him escape?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: moderate body horror, mention of suicide attempt and language. Also keep in mind this was written before playing Chapter 2 and as such it won't follow the actual events of the game. I have gone back and corrected some names since first posting it.

Henry coughed and wiped his arm across his forehead as he struggled to his feet. Dazed, he stared down at the smear of blood and pulled his handkerchief out. He blinked, looking around through the settling plaster dust as he dabbed at his bleeding forehead.

 

_ Christ almighty...what have I gotten myself into? _

 

A whistle of dismay escaped his lips at the sight of the boards. His gaze shifted to the axe on the wall. He took it, hefted it in his palm, feeling it solid and reassuring in his hand. The blade edge glinted in the dim light.

 

“Well...this will definitely come in handy…” he muttered and set to work

 

***

 

A few minutes later, the last board shattered under the blade and he stood there a moment, panting with sweat trickling down his face. In the flickering light, Henry stared at the scene before him. 

 

Candles...three coffins...the same unsettling pentagram scrawled over the floorboards…

 

_ To help appease th’ Gods, Joey says...To keep things goin’... _

 

Henry stepped forward. His toe touched the edge of the pentagram, the skin crawled on the back of his neck and he instinctively shuddered and pulled his foot away as he looked around the small room trying to get his bearings.

 

An oily chemical smell drifted across his senses. The smell of fresh ink. He heard a soft gentle _drip...drip...drip..._ Henry froze. His head turned. His hands gripped the axe haft until his knuckles whitened.

 

He saw It emerging from the shadows that lurked around the ring of candlelight. Smiling and silent except for that constant _ drip.  _

 

In Henry’s animal brain, adrenaline surged, signals fired and screamed  _ fight or flight, fight or flight... _

 

_ Flight?  _

 

_...fight… _

 

_...FIGHT… _

 

Henry reacted surprisingly quick for an middle-aged ink jockey, one foot moving forward, one foot moving to counterbalance his weight. His arms came up, his fingers clenched the axe haft, the blade glinted and he swung for his life, aiming that blade directly at that pale grin, the gust of his swing flattening the candles’ fragile flames, the darkness creeping up to devour the last bit of light.

 

“AaAAH, HENRY WA…!!!”

 

_ THUNK! _

 

A couple of candles flickered back into life. The feeble light cast a sickly yellow pallor over Henry’s sweaty face and gleamed over Joey’s glasses. Henry stared at the axe blade embedded in the wall, not five inches away from his old boss’s head. He released the haft, his hands shaking.

 

“ Jesus Christ…” Joey Drew finally breathed. 

 

Henry huffed, stepped back, tugged at his collar. He looked around, his eyes white-rimmed.

 

“Where did it go?” he finally demanded, staring at Joey. “  _ Where did it go?  _ “

 

“I d-don’t know what...It is, Henry but….cripes, you nearly took my head off, “ Joey wheezed, holding his hands up. “If you’ll just calm down a minute…”

 

“ _ Calm down _ ? “ Henry paced around, his hands in fists. “ Joey, you tell me what the hell is going on  _ right now _ . Th’...the _ things _ upstairs? That machine? Wally’s voice on the tape recorder? All this….this….” 

 

His face reddened and he waved his hands around, trying to grab words out of a fog of confusion and fury 

 

“ Ink?!?! “ he finally blurted out. 

 

“Well….what else would you expect in an animation studio, Henry…” Joey said in the soft worried tone of someone witnessing a mental breakdown. “Here...uh...why don’t we just...sit down here.”

 

Henry’s shoulders sagged. He exhaled, a long frustrated sigh, looked up at the ceiling.

 

“There’s so much...ink…I can’t even breathe without smelling it, “ he muttered and looked over at Joey sitting on one of the coffins. “No I don’t  _ wanna _ sit down. I want an explanation. Why are you here and what’s all this Satanic crap, ok? Talk. “

 

Joey shrugged. “Whole studio’s been closed for years now. Some kids probably broke in…” He thumped the side of the coffin thoughtfully. “Smoked some dope, had some fun with the props out of storage, I dunno…” He turned his head, the light of the candle obscuring his eyes.

 

Henry rubbed his face in frustration.

 

“Yeah, you know I  _ could _ believe all that Joey? Only there’s this telegram from you…” Henry dug into his left pocket, pulled out the folded piece of paper and handed it to Joey. “ And Wally left a recording talking about you doing crazy rituals or something. Plus some GODDAM THING upstairs tried to kill me so I think this has all gone way beyond kids goofing around in an old abandoned animation studio. “

 

He stepped towards Joey again, took a deep breath and his voice became quieter, calmer.

 

“My old man kicked me out, resented me until the day he died because I decided to waste my time drawin’ cartoons, instead of being fit enough to get drafted and get my ass honorably shot in some forest in Germany. Joey, you were the first boss I had, only one who’d considered givin’ a 4-F high-school dropout a decent job. I was always grateful to you for that, you know. “

 

His voice shook a little as he went on. His tone became almost pleading.

 

“Just be straight with me, ok, Joey? I’m...I’m really confused right now and scared shitless to boot. I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t know what happened upstairs and I keep seeing this...thing. God…” 

 

His eyes shifted to the axe in the wall. Walking over, he grabbed the haft, tugged and finally managed to free it. The weight in his hand felt reassuring. He still didn't know where that Thing had gone. He carefully balanced the axe against one of the coffins.

 

“I almost took your head off like some kind of maniac! I feel...I feel like I’m losing my marbles. I’m an accountant now for God’s sake, I’ve never done anything more exciting than correcting financial records. This isn’t me, Joey. I need some explanations. Please…”

 

Silence filled the room. Joey sniffed and looked around, his gaze resting on a couple of bottles sitting on the nearby shelf. He got up, took one and sat back down again, swinging the bottle idly between his fingers, its contents making a sloshing noise.

 

“ Good ol’ rotgut brand rum, “ he said. “So many late nights Wally and I would come down here and drink. We’d come up with the best story ideas when we were drunk, you know? Sit down here and talk and laugh and chew the fat, long after you kids had trotted across the lot for beddy-bye. “

 

“ Faust’s Flophouse, “ Henry mumbled. “That’s what we used to call the studio apartments. Wally designed the sign outside the door. “

 

Despite himself, a faint smile touched Henry’s lips. “What a dump it was. I still have a photo somewhere of Sammy at the door with that apron on and Norman hamming it up next to him with a pipe in his mouth. You think we slept? Pff. Sammy snuck in his chorus girl and her friends all the time and the security guard, what was his name….Mr. Reynaud? He’d give us bottles of cheap beer every other week and we paid him in doodles for his kid who loved Bendy. Between the boys, booze and pinochle, I never went to bed before three in the morning. “

 

A long silence stretched out between the two men, each lost in their respective thoughts.

 

“Henry, why’d you leave? “ Joey asked. “Why’d you leave us to go to... _ them _ …”  

 

Henry gave a weary sigh.

 

“ Do we have to go over this again? “ he mumbled, scrubbing his toe in the floorboards. “ Only a matter of time before the fat cats owned the whole place anyways. Sammy and Norm had already talked about leaving for Albuquerque before our department shut down for good. Paradise Films made me an offer for editing work...good wages. Better than...better than what I was getting here. I had a kid on the way…”

 

“Or you didn’t like knowing your boss was on McCarthy’s commie list?”

 

Henry’s words stuttered to a halt and he cleared his throat.

 

“Joey, you know good and well that didn’t have to do with me leaving, “ he managed after a moment. “ Joey Drew Studios was already dying when you got blacklisted. I thought the world of you and the boys but I couldn’t support a family on cartoons and there was no future here. “

 

The sloshing stopped. Joey glanced up at Henry again, waggled a finger at him and smiled.

 

“Wrong. You weren’t thinking big enough, kiddo. “

 

Henry blinked in confusion. 

 

“What?”

 

He watched Joey get up and walk around him, studying him and still smiling. “ About a year after the studios closed, I came back here to the old place. Hung out, thought about things, watched a few of the old reels left here. You didn't know my wife left me, did ya Henry? “

 

“ Oh God...no...I didn't. “ Henry’s expression softened in sympathy. 

 

“I couldn't think of anything else but the studio. I had been bad about it before. Late nights, forgetting dates and anniversaries... “ Joey said in a low voice. “But in the months before the studio closed I was obsessed, in denial, throwing out idea after idea to save it. I withdrew our entire savings account to pay for the rent on the lot. We got in an argument and she finally asked the question I know had been sitting like a toad in her throat for years…’What's more important to you, Joey, huh? WHAT’S MORE IMPORTANT?!’  ”

 

Henry watched Joey, watched him blink rapidly and scratch his chin, heard the catch in his words.

 

“ And I said...nothing. And she knew. She looked at me and  _ knew.  _ And I watched her pack her bags, walk out the door. I didn't stop her. “ 

 

He made a listless gesture. 

 

“ She filed for divorce about a week later. When I came here to the studio that night, I had nothing left. Nothing. “

 

He chuckled suddenly, a miserable sound. “Actually, scratch that. I did have a few things. Cheap booze, a bottle of ink, a paper and pen...And a whole bottle of sleeping pills. “

 

“Joey....you didn't…”

 

“ I remembered thinking about it all, hoping no one’d find me for months or years down here. I was so crazy out of my head that night, I drank the bottle of ink too. I wanted to rot, to be cremated, ground up into ashes and dust...and turned into ink. Heh...heh-heh. Pretty nutsy, huh? But... “

 

Joey’s hand snaked out and caught Henry’s upper arm. Black ink stained the tips of his fingers. Henry saw his fingernails; long, unkempt and ragged. He felt his old boss and mentor trembling. Joey’s eyes behind his glasses gleamed fever-bright in their shadowed sockets. 

 

“But-but-butbut but here’s the thing, here’s the  _ amazing _ thing, Henry  _ I didn’t die _ …. _ I had a vision… “ _

 

“Ok erm...sure Joey…” Henry mumbled, pulling back despite himself.  

 

“You doubtin’ me?” Joey asked, his tone sharp. “Yeah, a vision!. I knew what I needed to do to bring this studio back to life. Something that had never been done before. Are you listening to me, Henry? ‘Cause I wanna make sure you hear this loud and clear. This bullshit they’re pumpin’ out now and calling cartoons,  _ hah!  _ They make up some dopey characters, xerox ‘em, color ‘em in with goddam markers, have ‘em slip on a banana or something, they’re soulless, Henry, every last one of ‘em, dead lifeless copies traced from the same model sheet with maybe a silly hat slapped on to mix things up a little. Not like our boy Bendy, yeah? Best damn little throwaway doodle you ever made, Henry. That little devil had moxy, sass that whatdyecallit  _ joie-de-vivre.  _ He was different, he stood out and those fat cats that shut us down didn’t even give him a chance to see his full potential. Hell,  _ I  _ didn’t even know, Henry! Not until that night, oh no no. That’s when I knew. It had to be  _ more. It wasn’t enough to create that illusion of life, oh no no...They needed life. Real, vibrant, tangible life... _ ”

 

“Joey, you’re ranting and y-you’re not making any sense, “ Henry said softly, feeling real concern. “L-look why...why don’t we...try to find a way out of here…”

 

“ _ Shuddup _ ! I’m not finished, “ Joey snapped. “ Look, you turned your back on us and walked out all those years ago, you damn traitor _ by God, you’re gonna hear me now, ok? _ ” 

 

He abruptly stopped, stared at Henry for a moment and his other hand came up, rubbed his forehead where little beads of sweat had started forming. When he spoke again, he sounded calmer.

 

“I’m...sorry...I’m sorry Henry I didn’t mean to yell at you...Just. Please. Listen to me. Lemme say what I wanna say. Please...“

 

Henry stood there in silence and nodded once. Joey’s head dropped. He stared at the floor and then shook his head.

 

“I loved Deedee, Henry. I really did. She walked out and I felt like I’d been stabbed, felt like a _monster_. Cried like a _goddam_ _baby_ f’r chrissake... “

 

“I’m real sorry Joey…” Henry said softly. He could hear the sob in Joey’s voice, felt his hand tighten on his arm.

 

“ Me too….But….you know. Sometimes we...gotta make... _ sacrifices _ ... _ hngg _ ….”

 

Joey suddenly contorted with a spasm of agony, clutching at his shirt. He staggered. Henry’s heart thudded in his chest as he grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him.

 

“Joey?  _ Joey?  _ God…Ok here here...sit down, sit down you got yourself too worked up, sit down…”

 

He eased Joey down again on the nearby coffin and fumbled around for one of the booze bottles, popped the cap off and sat down next to the older man.The candlelight had caught Joey’s glasses again, obscuring his eyes from view. Joey heaved, his arms trembling, his fingers twitching. Henry felt fear trickling cold down his spine.

 

_ God, is he having a heart attack, a fit? _

 

“Here...here take a little sip, just try and calm down. “ 

 

The rim of the bottle touched Joey’s white lips, lips that stretched in a sudden frightening grin, flashing white teeth.

 

_ CRUNCH. _

 

The neck of the bottle disappeared between those teeth as Joey bit it in half.

 

Henry yelped, dropping the bottle which broke into pieces and jumped backwards. Something dark glistened between Joey’s teeth and began to drip out, down Joey’s neck and staining his shirt and necktie black. Joey’s body shook and Henry heard the most disturbing giggle bubble up from his mentor’s chest

 

“ Heh-ah-heh-heh-heeh **EEHEEHEEEHEEE** … **d-id I sc-are y-a Hen-ry bud-dy…”**

 

Henry slowly stepped back as Joey raised his head, swiveling it around to gaze at him. His eyes had gone completely black and that same viscous fluid- _ god it’s ink! _ -began to pour freely from them. He raised a hand. Ink began welling up from under his fingernails and trailing down his wrists and arms, puddling under Joey’s feet.

 

“  **H-e’s Hun-gry, Hen-ry bud-dy. H-e’s a Hun-gry lit-tle De-vil. W-ally, N-orman, Sss-ammy, Bor-isss...th-ey we-ren’t en-ough t-o sssat-is-fy h-is Hun-ger. B-ut n-ow. Yo-u’re H-ere! N-ow w-er’e...coo-king...wi-th...G-asss! ““**

 

Joey’s voice grew higher as he spoke, sing-songy, crackling and fuzzy as though it came from the speakers of a gramaphone. Henry heard the distorted screech of a tinny little tune slowly starting up, pennywhistles, calliopes, pianos. Joey’s hands came up around the side of his head, twisted it viciously to the right and Henry heard the horrible crackle of snapping bone. Those hands dug into the sides of Joey’s pasty white grinning face, began slowly lifting up his head as the ink poured faster and bones cracked and popped.

 

_ Oh Christ, oh christ no no NO NONONOO… _

 

Pure terror electrified his nerves and instinct decked him across the face, screaming at him to run. He snatched up the axe...and he ran, ran as fast as he could, down through the nearest corridor, away from that dripping abomination while its gleeful high-pitched cackle followed him in the darkness, snapping at his heels:

  
**“Ju-st...Re-Mem-Ber..T-o...Ke-ep...AH-ead...O-f...Th-e Ga-me...Pal-ly...B-oy! EHEHEHEHEEEHHEHEHE…”**


End file.
